


Where You Go, I Shall Follow

by vix_spes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Study, F/M, M/M, Sibling incest (not acted upon), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 06:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/897082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing that Rabastan won’t do in an attempt to measure up to his older brother. Where Rodolphus goes, Rabastan will always follow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Go, I Shall Follow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gamma_Orionis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gamma_Orionis/gifts).



> Written for [deatheaterfest](http://deatheaterfest.livejournal.com). This is more than a little bit of an experiment for me as I’ve never written these characters before but this prompt grabbed me and I hope I’ve done it justice. Huge thanks to [wwmrsweasleydo](http://wwmrsweasleydo.livejournal.com) for the amazingly quick beta.

**Christmas of 1978**  
  
Rabastan forced a smile to his face as the toast was proposed and then raised to the newly engaged couple, his older brother Rodolphus and the eldest daughter of the Black family, the frankly rather terrifying Bellatrix. Rabastan didn’t know Bellatrix well given that she was seven years older than him (and two years older than his brother), but she was something of a legend in the Slytherin common room. She was equally admired and feared and Rabastan wasn’t ashamed to admit that he veered towards fear a significant portion of the time.  
  
As he watched the newly engaged couple kiss before being surrounded by their friends, family and accumulated well-wishers, he felt the last shreds of hope disappear even if he knew that even hoping had been ridiculous in the first place. Gesturing at a house elf, he snatched a tumbler of stronger alcohol from the tray and made for the closest balcony, knowing that no-one would care about his disappearance amidst the celebrations. Standing on the balcony that had been magically protected from the elements, looking out over the snowy grounds of Lestrange manor, he couldn’t help but wonder how he had found himself in this position.  
  
Rabastan had always worshipped his older brother, idolised him even, and he couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t. Rodolphus had meant the world to him, he still did, and everything he had ever done had been with the hope that he had made his brother proud. However, in worshipping Rodolphus, Rabastan had also spent his whole life trying to measure up to his elder sibling.  
  
Five years younger than the Lestrange heir, Rabastan’s earliest memories were of his brother rather than his parents. As with all pureblood families, the Lestrange brothers were taught pre-Hogwarts at home, several tutors visiting the manor every day to ensure that both boys received the necessary education that being a member of a high-ranking pureblood family necessitated.   
  
The Lestranges weren’t quite on the same level as the Black or Malfoy families but there were still expectations of them. The Lestrange family were still a powerful force within Wizarding society and, whilst not commonly known outside Pureblood circles, dabbled in the darker side of magic. He supposed that was why an alliance had been made between the Lestrange family and the House of Black.   
  
The upcoming wedding between Rodolphus and Bellatrix certainly wasn’t a love match. He wasn’t completely certain that Bellatrix Black knew how to love unless it was her beloved Lord Voldemort. He couldn’t say for certain whether or not love was involved on Rodolphus’ part but lust certainly was. Then again, he was fairly certain that whether they liked her or not, most boys at Hogwarts had been in lust with one or more of the Black sisters. Rabastan was one of the few exceptions but then he was all too aware of why he was an exception.  
  
Rabastan was more than a little bit in love with his brother.  
  
He knew that it was rather a dramatic statement and that people would tell him that he was only fifteen and that he didn’t know what love was but that was fine, he could ignore them. Besides, it wasn’t as though he was going to tell anybody about this because Rodolphus was his brother and there were some taboos that even the Wizarding world frowned down upon. When he was about thirteen or so, maybe younger, and the rest of the boys in the Slytherin dorm had started stealing copies of Playwitch from the older boys for their wank material and making comments about a variety of female Hogwarts students, Rabastan had kept quiet about the fact that the only person who he had ever got hot and bothered about was his older brother.  
  
At first, he had hoped that it was a passing phase and that it would go away after a while. That he had simply spent so much time idolising Rodolphus and trying to measure up to him that he fancied himself in love with him. He had considered the fact that if that had been the case then surely it wouldn’t have lasted for as long as it had. Then again, it hadn’t taken him long to realise that whilst he had idolised Rodolphus, he had never wanted to be him. He had wanted to be with him. His eyes never strayed to anybody else at Hogwarts, not even the contrasting beauties of the Black family; the swaggering arrogance and dark handsomeness of Sirius Black and the icy beauty of his cousin Narcissa Black. By the time Rabastan was fifteen he had resigned himself to the fact that he was in love with his brother and that there would never be anybody else for him.   
  
And then of course he had received a letter from Rodolphus informing him that their parents had entered into discussions with the parents of Bellatrix Black regarding a marriage between the two of them. He hadn’t been entirely surprised by it, even though reading it in black ink had sent a pang through him, as Rodolphus had always run with a crowd that spanned several Hogwarts years and had included Bellatrix Black along with Lucius Malfoy and Evan Rosier amongst others. The letters that Rabastan had received since Rodolphus had graduated Hogwarts, certainly in the last year, had mentioned all of them frequently, normally in association with information about a man referring to himself as Lord Voldemort whom Rodolphus and Bellatrix considered themselves to be disciples of.   
  
Indeed, Lord Voldemort and his followers were the most popular topic of discussion in the Slytherin Common Room, every scrap of information that could be gained about him eagerly devoured. As the brother of Rodolphus and an apparent font of knowledge on the topic, Rabastan found himself at the centre of everything.  
  


~*~

  
  
**Summer of 1979**  
  
“Do you understand everything that I’ve told you Rabastan?”  
  
Rabastan nodded, somewhat jerkily, in acknowledgement of his brother’s words. His eyes trailed around the room, recognising all of the familiar faces both from the Slytherin common room and from the numerous parties that his parents had thrown and that he had attended over the years. He immediately recognised Evan Rosier along with his usual cronies Wilkes, Avery and Mulciber, none of whom were wearing their masks just yet. Just behind them he could see the platinum blond hair giving away the identity of Lucius Malfoy, although his fiancée Narcissa, Bellatrix’s younger sister, wasn’t present. Considering that both Lucius and Bellatrix were present, he wondered which of them would be leading tonight’s activities as both of them were rising stars within the ranks of the Death Eaters. Also missing was Severus Snape, but then that wasn’t completely surprising as he was never present at gatherings held during the Hogwarts holidays, even if it was strange not seeing him around.  
  
He was the youngest in the room, already clad in his black robes and turning his ornate mask over and over in his hands, as he watched the others prepare for the evening. The Death Eaters. That was what they were calling themselves. The supporters of Lord Voldemort and, if the man himself was pleased with the way that Rabastan acquitted himself this evening, then he would be initiated into their ranks within the next week before he returned to Hogwarts. His father and his brother had spent the entire summer building upon his previous knowledge of the Dark Arts and whilst he would follow his brother anywhere, he had quickly come to the realisation that his father had been grooming both he and Rodolphus for this for years.  
  
It had never been anything like this summer though, at least not for Rabastan. Previously, it had always been spells that trod the fine line between being classed as the Dark Arts or not; things that wouldn’t require immediate expulsion from Hogwarts if students were caught using them. This summer however, it had been all about the Unforgiveable curses. Both he and Rodolphus had been instructed to practice them industriously, at least the Cruciatus and Imperious curses although their father had demonstrated Avada Kedavra, using the Lestrange family house elves as test subjects. If he was honest with himself, the flash of green light followed by the quiet thud of a body falling lifeless to the floor had made him feel more than a little sick but if this was what his father and Rodolphus expected of him then he would oblige them.  
  
He had obviously done well enough to satisfy them as this morning at breakfast he had been informed of his evening plans and then, when he made his way back up to his room, the robes and the mask had been waiting for him. The rest of the gathering started to disapparate around them, disappearing in wisps of dark grey smoke, as Rodolphus made his way to Rabastan’s side. Rodolphus gripped his shoulder tight and leaned in to speak in Rabastan’s ear.  
  
“Just remember what father and I have taught you and you will be fine. Do the family proud Rabastan. Do me proud.”  
  
Rabastan nodded firmly at the words and disapparated mere seconds after Rodolphus into what was, for him, the unknown.  
  


(~*~)

  
  
Two days after the raid, Rabastan found himself at a gathering of Death Eaters that was being held at Malfoy Manor. As he walked into the ballroom behind Rodolphus and their father he recognised many faces from the raid although this evening nearly all of them were joined by their fathers and, in some cases, their mothers. Unlike two days prior, barely any of them were wearing the elaborate masks that hid their identities. Seated in the centre of the room was the man himself, Lord Voldemort, and Rabastan knew that tonight was his initiation into the Death Eaters. After this evening, the same black brand that adorned the forearms of his father and brother would also adorn his.  
  
If he was honest with himself, most of the evening passed in a blur. There was much talk about politics, happenings at the Ministry and more than a few of the younger Death Eaters present bragging about raids that they had taken part in. He found it all more than a little overwhelming. All too soon, a large circle was cleared in the centre of the room and Rabastan found himself pushed into it, doing his best not to stumble and make a fool of himself. As the tip of Lord Voldemort’s wand was pressed to his forearm, Rabastan looked over the man’s shoulder to where his brother stood shoulder to shoulder with his fiancée although Rabastan did his utmost to block Bellatrix out. He still wasn’t completely certain whether this was what he wanted but he could see the approval and pride written on Rodolphus’ face and that was enough for him.   
  
He held his ground as Voldemort whispered the necessary spell, a touch of sibilance to his words, despite the searing pain as the Dark Mark was etched into his skin. Still, although he was able to stop himself from screaming, he was unable to prevent his eyes from closing in an attempt to hide the tears in his eyes. When he re-opened them, it was all over and Voldemort had dropped his wrist, moving past him in a swirl of robes as Rodolphus moved forward. The pain faded into the distance as Rabastan revelled in the pride blazing in Rodolphus’ eyes; not even the approval on his father’s face could match it. Rodolphus may never love Rabastan the way that Rabastan loved him but then Rabastan had resigned himself to that fact a long time ago. Still, there was one thing that would never change.  
  
For as long as he was able, where Rodolphus went, Rabastan would follow.


End file.
